


so where do we begin?

by nevermindthewind



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Post Season 3, Reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindthewind/pseuds/nevermindthewind
Summary: She starts talking before she even opens the door.“You know if you wanted to study, a phone call would’ve –“ Suddenly she stops.Because it’s not Michaela at the door.It’s Wes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings from Uganda!
> 
> 1) This is my attempt at writing a fic where Wes isn't dead, hopefully I did it a bit of justice  
> 2) I know squat about the legal system so if anything is wrong, thats my bad  
> 3) edits are all my own  
> 4) title is based off the song "sick of losing soulmates' by dodie

She slides into the courtroom just as the judge calls everyone to order. 

 

She shouldn’t be here, she knows that. But she can't help herself. She has to hear it for herself, not from anyone else. 

 

As soon as she sits down in the back row, she seems them, Charles and Sylvia Mahoney. Instinctively she pulls the newborn in her arms closer to her chest. 

 

“On the account of arson in the 1st degree, how do you find the defendants?”

 

The buzz in the room immediately dies. Laurel’s grip on her sleeping daughter tightens. 

 

“We find the defendants guilty.”

 

Gasps echo throughout the courtroom. Journalists are texting their bosses as they whisper to each other. Laurel, however, has yet to react. 

 

“On the account of murder in the 2nd degree, how do you find the defendants?”

 

“We find the defendants…”

 

Laurel closes her eyes. Suddenly she’s thinking this was a terrible choice, coming to court. 

 

“Guilty.”

 

The room explodes before the juror has even finished saying the word guilty. Sylvia bursts into tears as Charles sinks back into his chair. A couple rows behind them Annalise and the others exchange looks of simultaneous disbelief and relief. Laurel sees Michaela pull out her phone, and seconds later feels her pocket buzz. 

 

However Laurel doesn't move. She sits in stunned silence, waiting for someone to pop out and change the verdict, to yank this away from her. But as the Mahoney's are taken away in handcuffs and the judge leaves for his chambers, she has to admit it. 

 

It’s over. 

 

She kisses her daughter’s forehead as tears start to form in her eyes. 

 

It’s really, truly over. 

 

\--

 

Over the next month Laurel begins to find a new normal. She doesn't look over her shoulder every time she leaves the house, doesn't jump when someone comes up behind her, doesn't dream about fire. When classes start up and she has to juggle two classes and a newborn, she still sleeps better than she has in months. Not that she gets a lot of it, but when she does it's real, bonafide sleep. Even the baby sleeps better after the conviction. 

 

Most of the time.

 

Tonight is not one of those nights. 

 

It’s already past 11:00 and Laurel’s yet to get her to fall asleep. She's tried feeding her, changing her diaper, rocked her for what feels like hours, everything, but the girl is stubborn and even though Laurel can tell she’s fighting to stay awake, she won't give in. They’ve resorted to walking around the apartment, Laurel bouncing the baby gently in her baby bjorn while holding the case she’s supposed to be studying in her hands. 

 

“You ready to learn about Lee v. Philadelphia, Mija?” she asks. The baby lets out a tiny grunt as a response, causing Laurel to giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

She proceeds to read the case out loud, using the case as a weird, slightly morbid lullaby. It feels ridiculous, reading about immigration law to a two month old, but if it can put a room full of law students to sleep it has to be worth a shot, right? Besides, she needs to have this down by tomorrow or she can kiss her chance at a decent grade goodbye. So reading aloud it is. 

 

And after about 20 laps around the apartment and 10 pages, it works. 

 

“Thank god,” she sighs as she looks down to see her daughter finally sleeping. She takes one more lap around the apartment for good measure then puts her down in the pack and play she’s set up by her bed. She runs her hand through the girl’s little patch of dark hair, causing a smile to flicker across her face. A little dimple appears, and Laurel is once again taken aback by how much she looks like him. Her skin is a couple shades lighter and she’s got Laurel’s nose, but when she smiles it's like Wes himself is smiling up at her. Her chest feels like it might burst, she loves that little girl so much. 

 

Eventually she pulls herself away from the pack and play and goes back to studying. She lets herself get lost in the case, to the point where she almost doesn't hear the knock at the door about an hour later. 

 

She checks her phone, wondering if someone (Michaela) had decided to come over to study, but there was nothing there. Writing the sound off, she goes back to work. 

 

Another knock, louder this time. More urgent. 

 

“Michaela...” she groans, lifting herself off the couch and making her way to the door. Thankfully the baby isn’t phased, but still, it's almost 1:00am. Whatever burning question she had could've waited. She starts talking before she even opens the door. 

 

“You know if you wanted to study, a phone call would’ve –“ Suddenly she stops. 

 

Because it’s not Michaela at the door. 

 

It’s Wes. 

 

An angry, red burn covers part of his face and neck and he’s skinnier than he probably should be but it's him. He's alive. And at her apartment. 

 

She doesn't know what to do, or say. She doesn't even know if it's really him. If this is really happening. 

 

“Hi,” he says, a small smile etched on his face. 

 

She hasn't heard that voice in almost a year. She’s spent 10 months trying to remember that voice, trying to get past the fact that she’d never hear that voice again. And yet, here he is. Speaking to her. 

 

But she can't seem to figure out how to talk back. She opens her mouth, hoping the words would form, but all she can get out is,

 

“What the—“

 

“I know,” he interjects. “I’ll explain, I promise. Can I come in?”

 

All she can do is nod and open the door, allowing him in. He walks in and looks around, no doubt taking in the stack of baby clothes she’s yet to put away, the box of diapers in the corner, the play mat on the floor. Signs that another person lives here. 

 

He turns back to her, looking just as overwhelmed as she feels. She looks back, unable to take her eyes off of him. Like if she looks away he could disappear. 

 

Finally she breaks the silence. 

 

 “What the hell are you doing here? How are you here? You are supposed to be _dead_.”

 

“I know,” he responds. “I’m so sorry.” His eyes are earnest, desperate to have her understand. “They made me cut off all communication.”

 

“Who did?” she asks, crossing her arms. “Explain.”

 

He brings his hands up to his head. 

 

“Nate,” he says simply. “He got me out. I guess he overheard Denver talking to your dad and found out they had planned to burn down the house with me inside, that the Mahoney’s wanted me dead. He tried to get me out before the explosion but he found out too late. By the time he got to the house they'd already attacked me and cut the gas line. But I was alive. That hit man used the same drug Frank used on Catherine, the one that all but stops your heart? I was pronounced dead at the scene but Nate knew I could still be alive, and he moved me out of the morgue and got me flown to another hospital. By the time I came to everyone thought I was dead so Nate entered me into Witness Protection until they captured the Mahoney’s. I had a new name and everything. I just got released from the system yesterday.” He pauses, bringing his gaze up to her. 

 

“All they told me was that you'd been in the fire and that you were alive, but they didn't say anything else. I begged Nate to let me contact you, to let you know I was safe, but I couldn't.”

 

“You couldn’t.” she repeats, her voice soft yet deadly. 

 

“No,” he replies. “I tried everything. I've missed you so much. You have no idea.”

 

Laurel’s eyes flash with anger she didn't know she had. 

 

“I have no idea? Really.” 

 

Wes flinches. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't –“

 

“I thought you were dead, Wes. Do you know what that was like? It all but destroyed me. I was hurt and pregnant and scared and you were gone. I went through absolute hell and now I find out it was all for nothing? That you could've been here this entire time??”

 

She shakes her head. Suddenly she’s furious. 

 

“God, how dare you?! How dare you come back here and expect everything to be ok?”

 

“I don't expect that!” he exclaims, slowly backing away. “I know I hurt you by leaving. I know that. And I hate that I did. I never wanted to hurt you. But if I had stayed, if the Mahoney's had known I was alive they would’ve kept coming after us until I really was dead. And who knows what else they would've hurt in the process. I had to do this, ok? It wasn't for nothing.”

 

Tears begin to form in her eyes, which pisses her off even more. 

 

“What about our daughter, huh? Did you think about her? About how much she needs you?”

 

He balls his fists and brings them to his face. 

 

“I swear I didn't know about her. If I had I would have been here or tried harder to get in touch or, I don't know _, something_. If I had any choice I would’ve been here. You know me.”

 

She looks up to see him looking straight at her, his eyes full of sincerity. 

 

God, it's really him. He's really, truly here. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Laurel. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that alone. But I'm here now, ok?”

 

The tears begin to spill over, but she’s yet to let down her guard. 

 

“You really didn't know?” she asks, a hint of softness returning to her voice. 

 

He shakes his head. 

 

“I had no idea.”

 

She looks away, wiping a tear from her cheek. Wes makes the tiniest gesture, as if he wants to reach out to her, but at the last second pulls away. For a moment they’re at a standstill, both overwhelmed by all the information being thrown at them. 

 

This time it's Wes who breaks the silence. 

 

“What’s she like?”

 

Her face lights up as the tiniest smile appears on her face. 

 

“She’s incredible. I can't even describe it. Honestly I don't know if I would've made it through all of this without her.”

 

Laurel pauses. 

 

“She reminds me so much of you.”

 

A look of surprise crosses Wes’ face. 

 

“Really?”

 

She nods. “She's got your smile. And she loves everyone, even Connor. And bright colors. Her favorite stuffed animal is this neon orange teddy bear I found on clearance at Target.”

 

He laughs. “You're kidding.”

 

She shakes her head. 

 

“She lights up whenever we play with it. It's in there with her now, actually.”

 

At the mention of the baby there's a shift, a change in the air, and once again they both are silent, looking at each other. Wes opens his mouth but quickly closes it again. Like he’s too afraid to say whatever he's thinking. 

 

Laurel wipes her eyes once again. An hour ago she thought her daughter would grow up without ever knowing her father. Now here he is, standing right in front of her. 

 

She takes a deep breath. 

 

“You wanna see her?” 

 

He raises his eyebrows, giving her a look of simultaneous relief and fear. 

 

“You sure?”

 

She nods. “With any luck she’ll still be asleep. I only got her to go down a couple hours ago.”

 

Right on cue, tiny cries start coming from Laurel’s bedroom. “I spoke too soon,” she says. 

 

Immediately she turns and heads towards the cries, expecting Wes to follow suit.

 

But he stays rooted to his spot.

 

She’s about to open the door when she turns to sees him still standing in the middle of the room with a panicked expression on his face. Her eyes immediately soften. Almost a year has past yet she can still read him like a book. 

 

“Want me to bring her to you?”

 

He nods.

 

She gives him a small smile, then heads into the room. She scoops up the baby and brings her to her chest, rocking her as her cries begin to fade. 

 

“You just wanted to be held, huh?” she murmurs into her little tuft of hair. 

 

At the sound of Laurel’s voice the baby looks up at her with big, brown eyes, Wes’ eyes, and almost instantly she feels tears start to form again. In the past hour she’s been hit with every single emotion. But right now she can't help but be happy. She never thought this day would come. 

 

“Your daddy’s waiting for you, Mija,” she whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Mahoney's are in prison. Castillo too. Denver’s been disbarred. We have no reason to believe your life is in danger anymore,” the officer replies. Then he says the words Wes never thought he'd here. 
> 
> “We’re releasing you from the system. You can go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Dear Pete Nowalk, please take the hint and bring back Wes. Love, me.  
> 2) did my own editing, I apologize for any mistakes!

He’s in a dingy cafe in New York when he finds out. 

 

“So what are you saying?” he asks, unable to believe what he's hearing. 

 

“The Mahoney's are in prison. Castillo too. Denver’s been disbarred. We have no reason to believe your life is in danger anymore,” the officer replies. Then he says the words Wes never thought he'd here. 

 

“We’re releasing you from the system. You can go home.”

 

He almost laughs at that because, last time he checked, he didn't have a home. He's bounced from city to city since he was twelve, since the Mahoney's took his mother away. Home was just a myth, something happier people than him always have. 

 

But then again…

 

“Laurel.”

 

“What?” Nate asks. Wes didn't realize he'd said her name out loud. 

 

“How's Laurel?” he tries again. 

 

He watches Nate shift uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly unable to meet Wes’ gaze. There’s something he hasn't told him, he knew it.

 

In an instant Wes is on high alert, as if he wasn't already. He’s always on high alert these days. 

 

“What happened to her?” he asks, forcing Nate to look him in the eye. 

 

“Nothing,” Nate replies quickly. “She’s fine. Still at Middleton. But there is something you should know.”

 

Wes’ mind begins to race, thinking through all the things that could've happened since his “death”. His first thought, even though he hates himself for it, is Frank. Laurel made it clear she was done with him; he’d gone too far, betrayed her too many times. 

 

But what if something changed? 

 

He tries to shake the thought, but its already taken hold of him. Frank had made her happy at one point, and with Wes gone, he was probably more than happy to offer a shoulder to cry on. The thought makes Wes cringe. Maybe he doesn't need to know. Maybe she’s better of without him and he should just go somewhere else and start over again. It's what he's good at. 

 

Nate, oblivious to Wes’ inner dialogue, continues on. 

 

“As you know, on the night of the fire Laurel also got brought to the hospital to get treated for injuries. Mainly smoke inhalation, but she also had second degree burns on her leg and abdomen.”

 

He looks down, absentmindedly running his hand along his scars, trying not to relive the hell he went through, and trying even harder not to imagine Laurel going through anything like the brutal treatment he went through. 

 

“Is she okay?”

 

“Yes. She was in the hospital for a few days but she’s fine. However when they ran her blood work they found something else, something not related to the fire.”

 

Nate pauses for a beat, then,

 

“Laurel was pregnant.”

 

Whatever Wes is expecting, that is definitely not it. 

 

“What?” he asks, his voice echoing his confusion. His mind couldn't seem to register what Nate had said. 

 

“Wes, you have a daughter.”

 

\--

 

He had wanted to get on the very next train to Philadelphia but, thanks to a horribly timed transportation strike, he is forced to wait until the next day, and even then it's dark by the time he makes it on a train. 

 

As he boards he tries to ignore all the stares, the double takes as he passes people on his way to his seat. But no matter how hard he tries he can't help but feel hundreds of curious, disgusted eyes focusing on the scar that runs down his cheek and neck. 

 

He’d been in the hospital for six months after the fire. It had been absolute torture, there’s no other way to describe it. He’d had several surgeries on his hand, arm, chest, neck, and face; some were to control the burns, some to repair ligaments, others for skin grafts. But the worst part was by far the daily cleanings. Everyday a nurse would come in and submerge him in water to clean out the wounds to prevent infection, and everyday he would be submitted to the worst pain known to man. Half the time he was delirious, either from pain or meds or both. But when he could actually think straight he constantly found his mind wandering back to Philly, back to Laurel. Everyday he wondered if he'd ever get to see her again. He’d wanted to contact her, to find out how she was, but he was in absolutely no shape to do so. And even if he could, the moment he made contact he’d have put her in danger. So he had stayed quiet, even after he’d been released from the hospital. He convinced himself she was okay, that she was better off without him. 

 

But that was before. 

 

Now he's on a train back to the very place he never thought he'd see again, trying desperately to piece together all the information he’d been given in the last 36 hours. 

 

Laurel had a baby. Their baby. 

 

For ten months he had been kept in the dark. Nate had known for _ten months_ and didn't say a word. He didn't bother to tell Wes that the love of his life was carrying his baby. That he is a father. And for that, Wes is furious. He’d already grown up without a dad, and he’d be damned if he put his own kid through that.  He should've been there, that’s all there is to it. 

 

They'd always been a team, him and Laurel. For the better part of two years they never made decisions without talking to each other. Yet Laurel had been left making the biggest, scariest decisions of her life, of their lives, without him. While Laurel is by far the strongest woman he knows, it kills him to think she had to go through all of this alone. And now for the past, what, two months, she’s been raising their daughter AND taking classes?

 

As if she wasn't a badass already. 

 

But still, she shouldn't have to do it by herself. And now, hopefully, she won't have to.

 

\-- 

 

The next few hours are some of the longest of his life, but as soon as he steps off the train everything becomes a massive blur.  Before he knows it he’s sitting outside Laurel’s apartment in an Uber, trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to do. 

 

He’s frozen to his seat as thoughts begin racing through his head.

 

_What if she’s not home? What if she is and she wants nothing to do with me? What if_ Frank _is there?_

_Maybe this was a bad idea.  She’s probably moved on, she’s fine without me._

He almost tells the driver, who looks barely old enough to drive, to turn around and take him to a hotel, when he remembers.

 

The baby. He has to see her.

 

“Dude, you getting out?” the driver asks impatiently.

 

He opens his door in response and begins to head up the steps, the very steps he’s walked hundreds of times before.  Looking down, he notices his hands are shaking. 

His thoughts continue to spiral as he makes his way to her apartment.  Memories are flowing back to him: studying for finals, spontaneous fast food runs, late nights that turned into early mornings, their life together.  It’s all there, welcoming him back.

 

Just like that he’s outside her apartment.  There’s light under the door, so he knows she’s home. 

 

He pauses.

 

_What will she think? What will she say?_

_How am I supposed to be someone’s dad?_

 

He can’t seem to move.  He wants to, but he just…can’t.

He stands there for a moment, trying desperately to prepare himself for what’s on the other side of the door. 

 

Then, finally, he knocks. 

 

Nothing.

 

He waits for a bit and then tries again, louder this time. 

 

This time he hears movement on the other side, something like papers being shuffled. 

 

Then he hears her voice. 

 

It’s muffled, but there’s no denying it’s her. She’s saying something about Michaela, getting louder as she gets closer to the door. 

 

Suddenly, the door is opening.

 

“You know if you wanted to study, a phone call would’ve—“

 

And now, after almost a year, Laurel is standing right in front of him.  Her hair is up, which means she’s probably been studying, and there’s a baby monitor in her hand.  She’s got on her favorite old Dolphins sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big, plaid pajama shorts, and mismatched socks, one green and one blue.  She’s absolutely beautiful.

 

She also looks confused as hell. Not that he blames her.   

 

_Say something.  Anything._

All he can think of to say is,

 

“Hi.”

 

\--

 

Everything goes about as smoothly as he could have hoped.  She’s angry and confused, as she should be, but under that he sees a glimmer of happiness.  He knows her too well not to see it.  But she won’t let her guard down, not yet.  He knows that too. 

 

Still, it could’ve gone worse. 

 

She’s just left him in the living room to get the baby and Wes is absolutely petrified. He has no idea what to do.  He knew she was real, obviously, but it is a whole different thing to actually see her, to hold her. 

 

_What if I fuck up? What if I can’t even hold my own daughter the right way?_

_Should I sit down? Or stay standing? What if she starts crying?_

Just as he starts to move towards the couch, Laurel comes out of her room, holding a tiny bundle against her chest.  She moves slowly, her eyes full of nerves.  But she also looks determined and once Laurel puts her mind to something, it’s going to happen. 

 

“It’ll be easier if you sit,” she says, motioning towards the couch with her head.  Wes quickly moves in that direction.  Laurel follows and sits next to him, moving a pink blanket as she sits to reveal the tiny baby underneath. 

 

In that moment his life changes forever.

 

She’s without a doubt the most beautiful person in the world.  With a mess of jet-black hair, Laurel’s nose, and his ears, oddly enough, she’s the perfect combination of both of them.  Her head is turned so she is looking right at him, sizing him up.  He knows Laurel’s watching him too, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off the little girl. 

 

“Her name is Ella,” Laurel says gently.  “Ella Rose.”

 

At that he looks up.

 

“You named her after my mom?”

 

She nods, and gives him a soft smile. “I wanted her to have a part of you.”

 

He returns her smile, and there are tears in his eyes as he brings his attention back to the baby.

 

“Ella Rose,” he whispers. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

For a minute they stay like that, Laurel holding Ella while Wes continues to take everything in.  He reaches out and rubs her back, to which the baby responds with a tiny smile. _His_ smile.

 

_Whoa._

 

“You wanna hold her?” Laurel asks.

 

Again he looks up, nodding tentatively.  She shifts her weight and begins to move Ella from her chest, but Wes stops her.

 

Once again he’s terrified.  What if he hurts her?

 

“What do I do?”

 

Laurel lets out a tiny laugh. “I asked the exact same thing when the nurse first gave her to me,” she says, “Hold your arms out and I’ll place her where she needs to go.  You’ll be able to feel it out once she’s there.”

 

Wes does as he’s told and puts his arms out in front of him, exposing the burns on his right hand.  This time it’s Laurel who hesitates, looking from his hand to his face with a mix of compassion and confusion. 

 

“I’m okay,” he tells her.

 

“Okay.” She has questions, clearly, but thankfully she doesn’t push it. 

 

Once again Laurel begins to remove the baby from her chest, this time lowering her down and placing her in Wes’ outstretched arms.

 

She squirms a bit as the two of them find a comfortable position, but they figure it out pretty quickly, with Ella nestled in the crook of Wes’ elbow.  He smiles down at her, offering her his finger.  Almost immediately she grips it with strength he was definitely not expecting, sending chills throughout his body. 

 

Suddenly he’s hit with a love he’s never felt before, a love so strong and pure it scares him.  Yet at the same time, it’s the most natural thing in the world.  Like his whole life he was missing a part of himself, and he’s finally been put back together. He’s finally whole.

 

He gasps, looking up at Laurel.  She’s crying too, but unlike earlier, this time she’s smiling. 

 

“She’s…” he starts, but the words don’t come.

 

Laurel nods in understanding.

 

“I know.”

 

Once again they both fall silent, Laurel watching as Wes continues interacting with the baby.  He can tell she’s tired so he begins to rock her with surprising ease.  He has no idea where the instinct came from, but it seems to be working.  After a few minutes she’s fast asleep.

 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Laurel says, breaking the silence. 

 

“Me either,” he replies, looking up with a smile. She looks him right in the eye, sizing him up with a look identical to their now sleeping daughter.

 

“You’re really here.”

 

“I’m really here,” he repeats.

 

“For good?”  He can hear the vulnerability in her voice; can hear how much she wants to believe him.

 

“For good.”

 

With that Laurel leans into his shoulder, finally letting down her guard just the tiniest bit.  He’s hit with the scent of her shampoo, that lavender stuff she loves, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from kissing her right there.  But he knows it’s not the time, so he just wraps his non-Ella arm around her, hoping to provide some sort of comfort.

 

“I missed you so much,” she murmurs.

 

“Me too,” he replies. “I thought about you everyday.”

 

She looks up at him, keeping her head on his shoulder. “You did?”

 

“Yeah of course,” he says, surprised.  “You’re all that got me through treatment.  I just kept thinking that if I could get through that then hopefully I’d be able to find you again.”

 

She takes his hand, unwraps his arm from her and begins examining his burned hand.

 

“Treatment?” she asks.

 

He nods.  “I was in the hospital for six months, with 3rd degree burns on about 40% of my body.  It was...hard. Really hard.”

 

She closes her eyes at the mention of his injuries, wrapping his hand in hers. 

 

There will be a time where he tells her about everything he went through, but tonight is not the night.  Thankfully she senses that, and once again she doesn’t push him. 

 

Laurel yawns, causing Wes to look at his watch.  It’s almost three in the morning. 

 

“You should get some sleep,” he says.  She pulls herself upright.

 

“What about you?” she asks.

 

He shrugs. “I got a room for the night at the hotel down the street. I won’t be far.”

 

“You’re not staying here?” She seems to deflate a little.

 

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to,” he replies honestly.

 

“I do.” Her voice is small, but confident.  “If you’re not here when I wake up I’ll just think this was all a dream.”

 

He smiles at that. They have work to do, that much he knows.  Even though he has no intention of ever leaving again, it will be a long time before she can trust him again.  But he also knows that he would do whatever it took to be a part of both their lives.

 

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes gets to know his daughter, Michaela comes to visit, and Laurel tries to figure out what the hell this all means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! School and moving and all that jazz got the best of me, but I do intend to finish this guy up!
> 
> Also, this chapter is kinda slow but it sets up what's to come, I promise. :)
> 
> And as usual, all editing is done by me so sorry for any mistakes!

It’s a little past six am when Laurel wakes up to the sound of Ella’s cries mixed with snores loud enough to wake the dead.

Her first thought is that someone broke into her apartment.  She’s confused for about ten seconds and considers grabbing the lamp on her bedside table before she remembers; Wes is alive.  He’s alive and in her apartment.  And he still snores, apparently.

Just like that all the events and emotions from the night before come rushing back to her: the anger, the confusion, the joy, and the questions.  She still has so many questions. 

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes before getting up and padding her way to the living room, tip toeing out to see Wes spread out on the couch. 

She stops for a second and looks at the man she loved.  Loves?

At this point she has no idea.  

All she does know is that he is here.  And she’s okay with that.  

_ I think. _

But first, Ella.

Her hungry squalls wake Laurel from her quick little daydream ( _ How is he still asleep?? _ ), and just like that she’s back into mom mode.  She goes back into her room, opening and quickly closing the door, so to not wake Wes.  A tiny, angry baby greets her as she walks in.  She picks her up with ease from the bassinet and moves to sit in the rocker in the corner.  

“You’ll wake your dad up, you know that?” she whispers as she raises her shirt.  Almost instantly the crying stops as Ella latches on, leaving Laurel’s mind to linger on the word  _ dad _ as she lets the word dance around her tongue. 

“What are we gonna do, Ella Bella?”

There was never really any doubt in Laurel’s mind that, if he was alive, Wes would have been with her, supporting her the entire time; he would’ve loved their baby. Now that he’s here and he’s seen Ella, actually held her, she knows she was right.  She could see it in his eyes, how in love he is with their little girl.  He wouldn’t be able to let her go, and Laurel wouldn’t want him to.  Ella deserves to have two parents.  She deserves to have her father around.  So Wes will always be a part of their lives.

But then where does that leave them?

_ Where do we even begin? _

“Laurel?” Wes is awake, forcing her to come back to reality quicker than she would’ve liked.

“In here,” she calls out.  Instinctively she grabs Ella’s blanket and throws it over her chest.

He cracks open the door, peeking in before opening it all the way and coming into the room.  She watches him look around, both trying to wrap their minds around the events of the last few hours. Her room, like the rest of the apartment, has been taken over by the baby, complete with the bassinet and what feels like a thousand toys of various shapes and sizes. This is just one way Laurel’s life has changed so drastically in the last year; she can’t help but wonder how Wes will fit into it.

“You sleep okay?” she asks tentatively. “Sorry if she woke you.”

He brings his head back to look at her.

“No,” he says. “I mean, no she didn’t wake me.  I slept fine.”

“Good,” she replies, letting the conversation die as she concentrates on Ella eating.  It’s odd; before the fire they could sit in silence for hours and never feel uncomfortable or awkward. Now even after a minute it feels strained.  

After a couple minutes Laurel feels Ella pull away, and looks down to see her falling asleep.

“Oh no you don’t,” she says, breaking the silence. She lifts the baby up, allowing the blanket to fall as she flips Ella around to her other breast and tickles her in a desperate attempt to keep her awake.  After a moment Ella’s eyes flutter back open and, thankfully, she immediately latches on again.  Laurel looks up to see a very confused Wes watching the whole interaction with a bemused look on his face; she can’t help but laugh.

“Wes, you're fine. It's not like you've never seen them,” she quips, noticing how hard he’s trying to not look at her chest. His cheeks redden, but he does seem to relax a bit. 

“She almost always falls asleep while she eats,” she continues, feeling a tiny smirk flick across her face. “Normally I don’t really mind, especially during the day, when I’m around to feed her, but I want her to eat at least a little more before she goes to Michaela’s.”

“Michaela’s?” he asks.

“Yeah, she watches her while I’m in class.”

“Oh,” he nods, and she can see him mentally taking note of the new information she’s throwing at him. “What time do you have class today?”

“Immigration with Quail at 8:00 and then I'm in the clinic from 10-12.”

“And Michaela watches her the whole time?” he asks, a confused look appearing once again on his face.

She hums in confirmation. When the confusion doesn't leave his face she cocks her head. 

“What?”

“Well,” he starts. “Doesn't she get hungry?”

Laurel laughs again, not in a derogatory way but in understanding. She asked herself the same thing when Michaela first suggested she take Ella for the morning. 

“She bottle feeds when she's with Michaela,” Laurel replies. She pauses before adding, “Well, she’s supposed to. But you're a stubborn little thing, aren't you, Mija?” she coos at the baby. “We’re still working on that. Which is why I want her to eat as much as possible before I take her over.”

“You know,” he starts.  He stops himself before finishing his thought.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I was just gonna say, that if Michaela ever for some reason couldn’t watch her, and you needed to go do something...I don’t know, maybe I could watch her? If it was okay with you of course.”

She looks up, surprised painted all over her face. Wes immediately begins fumbling over his words, backtracking before she can respond.

“Sorry, that was really dumb.  I just met her and you probably don’t need, or want me to overstep…”

“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, I think that’d be okay.  Once you get to know her schedule and everything, get to know her a little bit. Of course you can spend time with her.”

He nods and they settle back into their strange kind of silence. She watches his scars ripple across his neck as he moves. It’s been almost a year since the fire yet the burns are still angry and red, almost purple in places. Once again finds herself wondering about the treatment he'd mentioned the night before. What exactly had he gone through all those months they were apart? 

Wes must feel more comfortable now because soon he pipes up again. 

“Your coffee pot still in the same spot?”

She gives him a soft smile. “Help yourself.”

He returns her grin and leaves the room. 

 

\--

 

After she finishes up with feeding and changing Ella, Laurel carries her to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee that had begun wafting through the apartment.  The smell makes her oddly nostalgic; suddenly she’s taken back to the days before the fire when her and Wes, and sometimes the others would slave over textbooks and case files, or back to that brief, yet wonderful period when it was just the two of them, drinking coffee together before heading to class. 

She finds Wes sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding his coffee in the other.  Upon hearing her come in, he looks up.

“I poured you some,” he says tentatively, nodding to the mug beside him. “I didn’t know if you could have it, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

Laurel smiles with excitement as she sits beside him and takes the cup. 

“Thanks,” she replies before taking a sip.  She sighs, relishing the taste. “I haven’t had coffee since I found out I was pregnant,” she admits.  

Wes’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

“I know,” she chuckles. “But it was on my list of forbidden foods when I was pregnant, and then since she was born I just don’t have time to make it.”

“Now I’m even more impressed,” he says, taking another sip of his own coffee.

“Impressed? With what?” 

Wes looks up with her with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“With you,” he says simply. “Raising a baby and taking classes is one thing.  But doing it without caffeine?” He trails off, shaking his head. 

She feels herself turn red, not used to receiving compliments. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, giving Wes a quick smile before bringing her gaze down to the baby, who was wide awake now and smiling up at her. “We’re trying, aren’t we Ella Bella?” The baby babbles back, waving an arm up at Laurel, causing her to smile. “Say ‘yeah, we’re figuring it out.’”

She takes the baby’s hand and plants a kiss on it before letting her grip her finger. 

“So what are you doing today?” she asks. 

Wes shrugs as he toys with his mug. “Probably gonna start looking for apartments. And jobs.”

Laurel looks up. 

“What about Middleton?”

Again he shrugs. 

“I don't know…” he trails off. “I think I need to distance myself from the world of law for a bit. There are other ways I can help people, you know?”

He shakes his head, like he's trying to shake thoughts out of his mind. “I don't really want to go back to a police station or a courtroom if I can help it. At least right now.”

There it is again. Another little hint at the trauma he's been through. And as mad as she still is, still wants to be, the fact that he went through his own hell...well just because she's mad doesn't mean she wants him to hurt. 

Without thinking she reaches across the table and takes his hand. 

The gesture clearly surprises both of them; both flinch, but neither pull back. Wes looks up, and for a second their eyes lock, brown anchoring blue. He gives her a soft smile in appreciation. Again he opens his mouth, about to say something...

Suddenly there's a knock at the door, undoing the spell that had been cast in the room. 

Laurel checks her watch as she stands to get the door. 

“Shit is that the time?!”

She quickens her pace as she crosses the family room and swings the door open to reveal Michaela, already perfectly put together. 

“You're not even dressed?” she asks in greeting, making her way into the apartment.

“Uh..” Laurel begins, suddenly not worried about her clothes but the supposedly dead Wes in the kitchen. She tries to stop her, to warn her, but she's too late.

“Did you actually make co-- OH MY GOD.”

Laurel winces as she heads into the kitchen, coming face to face with a very confused and very vocal Michaela.

“What the HELL are you doing in this kitchen? You're dead, hell, you're supposed to be a bag of ashes right now,” she says, narrowing her eyes. 

“Michaela--” Laurel starts. 

“You. You give me the baby and go get ready. We’ll talk later.”

The glare that accompanies those instructions is so intense that Laurel doesn't think twice about following them. She hands Ella over and shoots an apologetic look at Wes before heading back to her room. 

She keeps the door open so she can hear the conversation in the kitchen as she changes. 

“Look, don't get mad at Laurel. I only got back yesterday. She didn't know, nobody did--OW! What was that for?!”

“For leaving Laurel all alone, for one.”

“It's not like I had a choice! I was in Witness Protection until two days ago.”

There’s a pause as Laurel pulls on the nearest pair of pants that aren’t leggings or blue jeans.

“How?” Michaela asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Nate got me out before the Mahoneys could. But I couldn’t contact anyone, even if I had wanted to. Even though I wasn’t dead, I came pretty damn close.”

“So, what, now you’re back and everything is hunky dory? You think you can just go back to being the puppy and we’ll all just welcome you with open arms? We all busted our  _ asses  _ trying to bring the Mahoneys down, to find justice. Not just for you, but for Laurel. And Ella.”

“Jesus, Michaela, you really think that? You really think I’m stupid enough to think you’ll all be happy to see me? I know what happened. I know how you feel. And I appreciate everything you’ve done. But I’m here. As long as my daughter is here, so am I. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to get used to it.”

The two of them continue to bicker as Laurel finishes getting dressed and begins to put together Ella’s diaper bag. Listening to them, she can’t help the tiny smile that begins to spread on her face.  

She was right.  He wants to be here. 

It’s a thought that both excites and terrifies her.

_ He’s going to leave again.  _

_ Something will happen and he will leave. You know it’s true. _

She tries to push the thought away as she throws supplies into the bag while simultaneously running a brush through her unkempt hair.

_ He wants to be here.  He’s always wanted to be here. _

_ But he wasn’t. _

“Laurel!” Michaela calls. “Did you hear me? We need to go.”

“One sec,” she replies, hastily adding a few more diapers to the bag before heading back into the kitchen.  

Laurel purposely avoids making eye contact with both of them as she grabs milk from the freezer and places it into a lunchbox along with an ice pack and several bottles.

“Try to get her to eat four ounces, if you can. I packed eight.” she says to Michaela, who nods as she takes the smaller bag from Laurel. Laurel, in turn, takes Ella and brings her to the living room, where her car seat sits against the wall.

“Alright, Mija, you’ll be good for Aunt Michaela, yeah?” she asks the baby.  Ella babbles back, thankfully unphased by Laurel strapping her into the seat. She runs her hand through her daughter’s little mess of hair, suddenly wishing she could skip class. 

“She’ll be okay,” Michaela mutters in understanding. 

Laurel sighs. “I know.”

_ Still doesn't mean I like it.  _

Planting a kiss on Ella’s forehead, she stands up and lifts the car seat onto her arm. They've been doing this for over a month but knowing that she won't be with her daughter for the morning still breaks her heart a little each day. She turns to leave and once again making eye contact with Wes. He gives her a small smile, comforting her more than he probably realizes.   Even though he’s been gone for so long, and even though she’s been doing this for almost six weeks, she feels the calmest she’s ever felt as she hands the baby over to Michaela.  

And she can’t help but think Wes might’ve had something to do with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the past few days she's slowly begun opening up to him. Telling him about how they caught the Mahoney’s and how Frank disappeared without a trace. How happy she is that he was gone. 
> 
> (He’d be lying if he said he wasn't a little happy when he heard that tiny tidbit of information.)

He wakes up from his nap in a cold sweat, panic coursing through his veins.

 

Shooting up, he looks around for the source of his fear; a fire made up of a dark hooded figure.  He can still feel the heat radiating towards him, hear the flames crackle and pop as they move towards their target.  Him.

 

_It’s not real. It’s not real._

 

It takes Wes a few minutes to calm himself, to remember that it’s a dream, a nightmare, and that he is alive and not being followed or attacked.  That he is safe.

 

Not that he knows what _that_ feels like.

 

So he lays there on the couch, trying to collect his thoughts as the afternoon sun shines in through the window.

 

It’s been over a week since he arrived, and while he’s the calmest he’s been since he can remember, these dreams remind him just how far he has to go. How deeply he's been burned.

 

Maybe he’ll always be like this. Maybe he’ll always be woken up by nightmares, unable to get fire out of his mind.

 

But maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll have Laurel and Ella with him too.

 

Little by little he’s been gaining Laurel’s trust. He never initiates, letting her guide their relationship for the time being. And while it's moving slower than he'd like, they're definitely making progress.

 

It started when she took his hand that first morning. It was so simple, yet to Wes it was everything. She still cared. She never stopped caring for him.

 

Then as soon as it had started, their moment was over. Michaela had seen to that. But Wes didn't really mind. Because in that simple gesture Laurel showed that she they still had a chance, they could still make this work.

 

Over the past few days she's slowly begun opening up to him. Telling him about how they caught the Mahoney’s and how Frank disappeared without a trace. How happy she is that he was gone.

 

(He’d be lying if he said he wasn't a little happy when he heard that tiny tidbit of information.)

 

In turn he's also begun telling her about his time in New York; his favorite nurses who use to sneak him extra jello, his first day out of the hospital when he thought he saw her on the subway, the time he flatlined and felt like his chest had burst open.

 

It just felt so natural opening up to her. Wes had spent the last ten months living a lie and living completely alone. He hadn’t had an honest conversation with anyone since the day of the fire, since their stupid fight.  It had been a year of nothing but lies, and by now was absolutely sick of it.  So once he started talking, he couldn't seem to stop.

 

He always apologizes though, because he always thinks Laurel wouldn’t care in the slightest about what he went through.  The last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable.  But he can’t help himself; he had to get those memories out before they ate him alive.

 

But to his surprise, Laurel actually listens. And what was even more surprising is that she actually seems interested. She knows exactly when to ask questions and when to just sit back and let him talk.  Or she knows when to change the subject so he can get on with his day.  Somehow she just gets him.

 

And then there is Ella.

 

Laurel has been beginning to trust him with her.  She’s let him watch the baby while she showered, and let him get up with her during the night. They’re little things, and Wes is pretty sure Laurel’s only doing it so she can get more sleep, _and_ half the time he’s still terrified he’ll do something wrong.  However he refuses to let that stop him.  Time with Ella is time with Ella.  

 

Thankfully, she seems to be taking to Wes like a fish to water.  In fact, the first time she ever full on laughed was for him.  He’d been making faces at her over Laurel’s shoulder while making dinner and suddenly she let out the sweetest little laugh. Both Laurel and Wes raised their eyebrows, looking up and locking eyes in excitement, and as soon as their eyes met they burst into matching smiles. They spent the next hour trying to make her do it again, making the most ridiculous faces and noises just to try and replicate that beautiful noise.  

 

A knock on the door causes him to jump up and check his watch.

 

_How is it already two??_

 

He quickly moves to the door, checking the peephole to see Michaela at the door. She’s holding a sleeping Ella in her carrier. She also looks pissed.

 

As soon as he opens the door Michaela starts ranting, as if she’d already been talking to him for hours.

 

“Why did he think that he could just take my outline without so much as asking? I swear once I get over there I am going to take that tiny, ignorant, sorry excuse of a man and --”

 

“Hello to you, too,” says Wes, trying his best to hide a smile.

 

“Hi. Can you take her? I need to go kick Asher’s ass,” she replies, handing over the diaper bag and carseat.

 

“But what about Laur--” he starts.  He’s never been alone with Ella before.

 

“She’ll be home any minute. You’re fine, just don’t do anything stupid,” Michaela says, dismissing him and leaving him in the doorway before he even has a chance to stop her.

 

_Well shit._

 

He peers out into the hallway just in time to see Michaela turn the corner and head out the building and then brings his gaze back to see Ella stretching herself awake.  He can’t help but smile watching her face scrunch up into a yawn.

 

“Hey kiddo,” he says, carrying her into the entryway. “Michaela must’ve wore you out.”

 

Unbuckling the carseat, he gingerly picks the baby up and carries her into the living room.  She starts to look around the room before giving up and resting her head against Wes’ chest, still not fully awake.  

 

_Heaven. This is heaven._

 

They stay like that for a while, as they settle in on the couch.  

 

It still surprises him sometimes how easily this all comes to him, taking care of a baby.   _His_ baby.  

 

Over the past week he’s picked up on so many little things, like the face she makes before she’s about to cry, or the way her lips poke out when she’s hungry.  And even though he’s stressed and overwhelmed and he _really_ needs a job, he can’t help but smile as she snuggles in close as Wes lets her wake up a bit.

 

“Where’s your mama, baby girl?” he wonders aloud.  She really should be here by now. Her class was over a half hour ago.

 

Ella gurgles in response.

 

He looks out the window and notices the park across the street. Suddenly he’s reminded of afternoons with his mom in Ohio; swinging on the monkeybars while she stood guard, playing kickball with the neighbors while she watched and knit another afghan.

 

_I wish you could meet her. She has your eyes._

 

Shaking his head he pushes the grief away, used to it by now.  Used to tucking it away.  It’s the one thing he actually knows hows to do.

 

He stands up, pulling out his phone as he walks Ella over to the stroller, suddenly hit with an idea. He types out a quick message to Laurel, letting her know where they’ll be, and then slides the phone back into his pocket.

 

“Hey Ella, you wanna go to the park?” he asks the baby as he buckles her into the stroller, making faces at her and rousing up a smile. “Yeah, you wanna go to the park?”

 

_Laurel wouldn’t mind, right? She wants us to bond and she knows where we are.  She can come meet up with us or something._

 

And with that, he picks up the diaper bag and heads out the door.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get an update up on this one! Hope you guys enjoy. :)
> 
> Also feel free to leave comments and kudos please and thank youuuu

It’s two-thirty by the time she’s finally headed home, but honestly, it might as well be midnight after the day she’d had.

Ella had spit up all over her blazer moments before she had to leave for class, making her late for the fourth time this semester, a fact her professor was all too happy to point out for the whole class to hear. Then she had a study session that ran an hour late, and on top of that the witness she was supposed to be tracking down for the clinic had apparently died a month ago, making the case seem even more unsolvable. Annalise had been putting even more pressure on the clinic since the Mahoney win, determined to make up for all of the time and cases she’d lost since Wes’ death; having her key witness drop dead of a heart attack did not help.

She drives faster than she normally would, her need to get as far away from school as possible outweighing her desire to comply with the speed limit. All she wants is to be home, to be away from the chaos of the world of law and curled up on the couch with her little girl.

_Ella’s not the only person you’re excited to see..._

With that intrusion she can’t help the familiar flutter in her stomach, the excitement that builds despite her desperate attempts to stop it.

The past week she’s been at war with herself, half of her wanting nothing more than to trust him while the other half tries in vain to keep some sort of guard up around him. Even though she can see it in his eyes how much he wants to be there, how much he cares about both her and the baby, there is still a part of her that is terrified to let him in completely, to go back to where things were before. Because as much as she wants to trust him, it’s not about her anymore, not really. She has to think about Ella, and she’ll be damned if she lets anything happen to her.

She finds her mind wandering back through her pregnancy, through all the milestones he missed. Everything that was supposed to be exciting, finding out the baby was a girl; the first time she felt her kick; picking her name; it had all been tainted with loss, with the understanding that he would never get to experience any of it. She lost count of the doctor’s appointments she went to alone, the decisions she had to make without having any idea if they were the right ones.

She’d done everything by herself, and while she’d always considered herself an independent person, having a baby was different. It’s supposed to be a team effort. She was in uncharted territory, with no one to tell her if the direction she was going was the right one, no one knowing what to say to the girl who was carrying her dead boyfriend’s baby.

And then there was the actual delivery itself.

They try to prepare you, tell you it hurts like hell, but nothing can really prepare you for when your body feels like it’s going to rip itself apart, for the sheer amount of pain that comes with bringing another human being into the world.

Michaela had come with her, stayed with her for all thirty fucking hours of labor so she wasn’t by herself, at least not technically. But the whole time Laurel couldn’t help but feel alone, like it was her and her baby against the entire world. She had felt like she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe without being reminded that Wes wasn’t there. He wasn’t by her side, holding her hand or reminding her to breathe or telling some terrible joke to try to get her mind off of the pain. When Ella’s little cries filled the room for the first time and changed her life forever, Laurel cried too. Because while she had been filled with a love so fierce, so strong it overwhelmed her, terrified her, she knew that Wes had been robbed of that same joy. And Ella, their innocent little baby who deserved the world was robbed of knowing her dad, knowing part of herself.

They all were robbed of so many things. Who is she to take away anything else?

She finally pulls into her driveway, the butterflies in her stomach increasing with added intensity as the car comes to a stop. And as much as Laurel wants to deny it, to retreat, she knows she can’t. She still loves him, she never stopped loving him. He’s Ella’s dad. He’s her rock, her confidant, her best friend. Ten months without him doesn’t change that, no matter how hard she tries.

_Now you just have to tell him._

With this realization comes a sudden surge of confidence; she has to do it, has to tell him she loves him before it consumes her. She’s kept secrets her whole life; the kidnapping, the shooting, Sam. She’s done hiding, done holding herself back.

Ignoring the last few doubts that try to stop her, she shuts off her car with unnecessary force and makes her way up the stairs with newfound determination. Now that she knows her answer, knows what she wants it all seems so simple, so easy.

Just as she reaches her front door her phone vibrates.

_**Forgot to tell you...I left E with Wes. Hope that’s ok. My idiot of a boyfriend “borrowed” my outline and managed to lose it before I made any copies.** _

She smiles to herself before throwing her phone back into her coat pocket and unlocking the door.

“Hello?” she calls as she makes her way into the apartment, setting her purse down as she slides out of her heels.

No response.

“Wes?” she tries again, peering into the living room and half expecting him to be asleep on the couch. They had both been up from 1:00 to 5:00 the night before. But no one’s there.

That’s when she notices; neither the diaper bag or stroller are in their normal spots.

She checks her phone for a possible missed text or voicemail, but there’s nothing. She looks around the apartment for a note; nothing.

Panic fills her chest as she races through the apartment. “Wes?! Ella?!”

But no one’s there.

She tries to call him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail.

A sob escapes her mouth before she can even comprehend what’s happening.

_Where’s my baby?!? Where did he take her?!_

It’s these thoughts that continue to race through her head as she texts everyone she can think of: Michaela, Asher, even Annalise.

**_Have you seen Wes?? Call me._ **

All she wants more than anything is to have her baby secure in her arms, to hold her close and never let her out of her sight again. Ella’s a part of her, the only part of her that truly matters and now she’s gone.

_Gone_.

Laurel spends the next few minutes obsessing over her phone as she paces up and down her living room, refreshing her texts every ten seconds in hopes that a text from Wes will magically appear. But from the looks of it his phone isn’t even on; the delivered icon has yet to appear under her message.

_Gone_.

She should’ve known Wes being back was too good to be true, should have known that she couldn’t leave Ella alone with him. He’d left before, why did she ever believe he wouldn’t do it again?

_Gone_.

Michaela’s name flashes across her phone, causing Laurel to frantically wipe her eyes before bringing the phone to her ear.

“Do you have Ella?”

“No, I told you I left her with Wes. Why?” Michaela asks slowly. Laurel can hear the skepticism in her voice.

“Because Wes isn’t here. And neither is Ella’s diaper bag.” Her voice is high, frantic. “He’s gone and that son of a bitch took my baby with him.”

“Laurel, hold on,” Michaela interjects. “We don’t know that.”

“I will not hold on. Ella is missing.” It sounds so much worse when she says it out loud. “She’s _missing_.”

“Okay, okay,” Michaela’s voice is low in a terrible attempt at calming Laurel down. “When’s the last time you heard from him?”

“This morning when I left the apartment. He said he was gonna hang out here for the day. He’s supposed to be here. They’re both supposed to be here.”

“Alright,” says Michaela. “Chances are he’s just run out on an errand or something. Did you call him?”

“Yes, and it went straight to voicemail.” Her hands are shaking as she runs them through her hair.

“Michaela, I can’t do this. I can’t lose her.”

“I know,” she replies. “We’ll find them, I promise. Me and Asher will drive around and see if we can’t figure out where they are. Just keep your phone on and stay there. We’ll find them.”

“Okay,” says Laurel, her voice suddenly ten times smaller. “But what if —“

Before she can get the words out, the sound of the door opening stops her dead in her tracks.

“I’ll call you back.”

 


End file.
